With the first link, the chain is forged
by Psycha Dea
Summary: During admiral Satie's drumhead trial to uncover a nonexisting conspiracy onboard the Enterprise, Picard turns to his counselor. One shot stand alone that can serve as a possible tie in to Parterre. Feedback, as always, is very much appreciated


**With the first link, the chain is forged**

_Author:_ Psycha (Psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Rating:_ K+  
_Codes:_ P, T  
_Episode:_ The Drumhead (season four)  
_Summary:_ A brief scene between Picard and Troi during "The Drumhead". Why wasn't Troi present during the hearings?  
_Status:_ Complete, though I might write a brief follow-up.  
_Author's Note:_ While writing more Parterre (the next three chapters are finished, yay!), I needed a little vacation into Troi's mind. This small offering can be interpreted as part of Parterre, or as a stand alone, whichever floats your boat.  
_Disclaimer:_ Not mine. No original characters or anything of the sort. I just play with them before putting them back in the Paramount vault, none the worse for wear and only slightly damaged…  
_Feedback:_Very much appreciated, it's the only payment I get ;)

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**With the first link, the chain is forged  
**"_The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied – chains us all, irrevocably." _– Judge Aaron Satie 

Uneasily Deanna Troi stood in the corridor of the Enterprise, waiting for the doors in front of her to open. When they did, she stepped inside quickly, trying to escape the suspicious atmosphere that filled the hallways.

She could feel the brooding mind in these quarters easily, not only through years of experience, but through sympathy as well. "You called for me?"

"Yes." Picard turned his chair and stared at her solemnly. "Please, sit." With a curt nod she did so, observing him as he observed her. "You haven't been at the hearings."

It was a statement, but one she felt compelled to answer nonetheless. "No." Her captain was simmering with fury, his emotions palpable to her. They fed her own mistrust of the situation and like him, she felt helpless.

"Why?"

Empathy was a part of her, sensing the emotions of others was as normal as breathing air. Even so, there were times, times like these, that she was grateful for her Betazoid half. She knew the anger in his clipped tones was not directed at her. Shrugging, she crossed her legs and stared just over his shoulder. "They make me uncomfortable."

He snorted at that.

His quarters were clean, efficient. It never stopped surprising her how someone could project such a sense of _self_ with so few items. Two dozen or so books were displayed on shelves, a few kept in protective containers on the table and desk. The plants he kept were still alive, something that also surprised her every time she crossed into his sanctuary. Although raised on a vineyard, she didn't take him for the watering type.

Perhaps she was seeking for a commonality? Her plants never lived long.

She brought her eyes back to him, careful to take note off, but not react to, his emotions. He felt betrayed, injured and she knew he wasn't the only one. Beverly had ranted for nearly an hour about the persecution of Simon Tarsis last night.

"It's a witch hunt," the captain spoke at last, "nothing more, but certainly nothing less." She nodded and knew as well as he did that whatever the outcome of this so-called investigation would be, it would stick with him and their crew for some time to come. Already she had appointments with crewmembers rattled by the experience. Suddenly doubting not only Starfleet's ethics, but Picard's as well. "Your input would be helpful."

She sighed at that and stood up, she could never sit still when faced with a dilemma. "I'm not sure if that would do any good." Her gaze slid over the collected artifacts scattered throughout the room as she contemplated his next words.

"I know the admiral seems blinded, but all of this started at the advice of her Betazoid aide, Sabin Genestra. She trusts him above all others. Perhaps, she'll listen to you?"

"Because I'm Betazoid too." Her eyes didn't have to be on him for her to know he nodded. He didn't yet realize how fundamentally paranoid the admiral was. Maybe she should've told him, warned him as soon as she heard of Tarsis' interrogation. But bound by not only her ethics, but counseling ethics, there was little she could do. Her captain would believe her, but with that knowledge there was little he could do. So she'd kept her mouth shut and avoided the proceedings. Hidden away in her office with patients. "She won't. She's obsessed with finding a traitor."

"Perhaps you could reason with Genestra then? He could convince her."

This time she stifled her sigh and came round to face Picard. His hazel eyes were hard and she knew he liked the anger he was feeling. It was a character trait of the captain, edged even deeper into his personality by the experience with the Borg. If there was no one else in the universe to stand up against injustice, at least there would always be him. Perhaps if she shared that trait she wouldn't feel so utterly useless now. "Sabin is caught up in her quest. It is a risk Betazoids face when working closely together with someone strong willed for that long. He might no longer be able to distance himself enough from her to be objective."

Frustration blasted into her mind with almost painful intensity. "Can't you do something?!"

"Even if he was objective," he regretted his outburst now and slumped back into his chair, losing the proud stance she was so accustomed to, "he would not listen to what I have to say."

"He's probably just as deranged as Satie," Jean-Luc muttered under his breath.

"I am half human, my telepathic skills are very limited compared to his."

"Yet I've never seen you do what he did." If the situation wasn't so bleak, she might have smiled at the trust she felt from him. "I've never seen you draw a conclusion from a single sensation."

"Sabin would've felt more than a single emotion. I've been trained as an empath, a counselor, a Starfleet officer. I serve this ship and like Sabin use my abilities to protect that which I love." And she did, though not with the same abandonment. Perhaps it was her human half, but she had learned at a young age it was best not to comment on what one sensed, least of all to draw conclusions from it. Few humans didn't have conflicting emotions and each assigned a different value to different feelings. Sometimes when asked what she sensed she was deliberately vague, unwilling to presume to know how someone else thought and experienced the universe.

"His lineage," she explained, "was the only lie Simon knew and he knew that that lie could cost him his career. It frightened him more than the interrogation, more than the possibility of being a suspected traitor. It likely overwhelmed him and it would've been impossible for Sabin not to sense it. But Sabin never looked beyond the explanation at hand, that Simon was a saboteur."

"With the first link, the chain is forged."

She recognized the quote. "Judge Aaron Satie." The captain seemed a little surprised at that. She smiled. "I went to the academy too, you know."

He grinned. "Of course, of course. Thank you Deanna."

Unsure if he meant it as such, she took it as her cue to leave. "She truly believes in what she's doing Captain. It isn't out of malice. In her own way she's trying to protect what she holds dear." She suspected admiral Satie had not always been this driven, it was doubtful she'd have made admiral if she had. More likely was that the encounter three years ago with alien parasites trying to take over Starfleet had been the catalyst to an obsessive need to protect the Federation.

It was a small relief for him that strengthened his resolve. "I'm expected on the stand tomorrow at oh nine hundred hours." It didn't surprise her. People like the admiral saw the world in black and white. Anything less than full corporation would be suspicious. "And rest assured that I will protect what I hold dear as well."

Deanna had little doubt of that. "Goodnight Captain."

"Counselor." His anger, though still simmering beneath the surface, gave way to resolve. If anyone could break the chain, it would be Jean-Luc Picard. For the first time since this mess had started, she walked through the corridors with a smile on her face.


End file.
